• I could barely believe the beauty of Manhattan Beach. Lemon trees and succulents in nearly every front yard, warm and fragrant breezes, my feet in soft sand after a painfully long winter.

• I’d never before attended a wedding held outside in the rain, but now I can heartily recommend it: huge smiles peeking out from under dripping raincoat hoods and umbrellas, steam rising from the pavement, the sound of water all around.

• I made a cake, sewed a colorful bunting and watched a newly minted teenager dive into blue water over a long weekend.

• Bonum est praestolari cum silentio salutare Dei.

Fitting in is assessing situations and groups of people, then twisting yourself into a human pretzel in order to get them to let you hang out with them. Belonging is something else entirely—it’s showing up and letting yourself be seen and known as you really are. — Brené Brown

Being seen and known as you really are…is there anything more terrifying? Or, when it finally happens, more freeing? Or, if lost, more debilitating? This morning the red-winged blackbirds are in full song.

A coffeecake for new homeowners. I’ll never be able to wrap presents in plastic bows and bright paper again.

My gift wrapping this year started with a walk in the woods to gather bits and ended with brown paper packages tied up with string. All of our gifts were handmade, out of necessity and also just because. I’m feeling super-inspired by Mary Jo Hoffman’s STILL project lately, so much so that I just ordered a plate for my tripod, and have plans to finally learn how to use my bounce flash once and for all.

Oh, and that last gift is a bottle of my daughter’s favorite barbecue sauce that the local stores have inexplicably stopped carrying. Because that is how I roll.

We spent about two weeks preparing for a Market Day at our homeschool co-op. During those two weeks our home buzzed with quiet industry and focus. The experience yielded valuable lessons in ordering, inventory, budgeting, pricing and perseverance. The actual event was a success: her hand-painted wooden families and gnomes were a hit, and his sweets sold quickly as soon as lunch was over. Now she is exploring the possibilities of opening an Etsy shop, and he talks of new recipes to try.

During the Market Day festivities, a fellow homeschooling mama asked me how we manage to fit creative endeavors into our school days. I explained that, when given this sort of opportunity to practice and refine real-world skills, we basically abandon most of our formal lessons and throw ourselves wholeheartedly into the project at hand. In other words, teaching my kids how to earn a living sometimes trumps first conjugation pluperfect tense. I suppose that wraps up my homeschooling philosophy in a nutshell.

We took the train into the city on a cold Friday morning. Union Station was gothic, beautiful and quiet in the early hours of the day. I sipped hot coffee and the children shared a cinnamon sugar pretzel in the white tiled food court. We walked across the street and into the National Postal Museum inside the Old City Post Office.

We spent the next two hours moving back and forth through two hundred years of history. I lost myself in lives lived and lost, my mind filled with their stories. The international stamp collection is stored in a wide wall of skinny vertical display cases, and we thrilled to the variety of sizes, shapes and colors. In a gift shop bin my son found a fat and heavy plastic bag labeled “OVER 500 STAMPS FROM ALL COUNTRIES INSIDE!!” His eyes were bright with excitement so I had no choice but spend the $7US. He held the bag tightly in both hands during the entire train ride home.

He sat down at their work table, made a hole in the bag and turned it upside down.. We watched the stamps spill out of that hole, big stamps, small stamps, all colors and countries and soon the pile covered much of the table. Over the next two hours we sorted stamps together, found countries on our world map, talked about how countries sometimes just dissolve and form new countries, and made many little piles all over the table. We each picked our favorite stamps from the whole lot–how lovely is the butterfly and those mushrooms?

The next day while he was at a friend’s house I sewed a stamp pile organizer of sorts, a temporary place to keep his piles sorted and visible until we devise a more permanent way to display his new (instant) collection. While the stamp holder isn’t as colorful as the last organizer I made, the green makes a lovely billiard-table-ish background for his treasures.

I’m stealing moments here and there between chores this Saturday to create. Pale blue, scratchy wool roving will soon be a smooth, friendly felted bowl to hold treasure.

After building up my courage with coffee and Ella, I spent the morning sewing a hefty curtain to replace the broken bi-fold door of our coat closet. I’d been waiting for five years to cut into this Ikea fabric, and couldn’t have used it for a better purpose, as the length of this curtain really shows off the pattern.

I designed a postcard for my husband’s real estate brokerage. Kind of wonky composition but I like to think that is part of the charm?

I used blurb.com’s book creation software to prepare a gift for our host at Surfside Beach. I wrapped her book in the recycled paper with which I wrapped ceramic bowls at the checkout lane of my IKEA, and finished the wrapping with shells we gathered from the very beach shown in the book. She was thrilled with the gift, and it was passed around the dining room table from guest to guest at her birthday party. You can view a modified (omitting the most personal photos) preview of the book online by going here.

“We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is, knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out.” — Ray Bradbury, on writing

Writing is one of the most important components of our homeschool. I want my children to enjoy their journaling, narrations and compositions, and in my experience the feel of one’s notebooks contributes to the overall appeal, or lack thereof, of the work at hand. The standard, black and white marbled covers of their history, science and language arts notebooks not only threatened to make dull work out of a task that should be meaningful and pleasant, but also threatened to trigger one of my migraines. I covered them up with bits from my fabric stash: hers are covered in a petite Japanese print, his are covered with a bold graphic Ikea print. Their notebooks are now personalized, soft, comforting, ready to receive.

I made a world for them. When I couldn’t find the perfect bunny house for sale, I glued wood and moss and stone, late into the night. I crafted grass, and a pond, and a path between the two bunn[…]

I love you.

I believe in you.

I am so happy to be your mommy.

We’ve decorated our tree (suffering only a few ornament casualties) and had a jolly Saint Nicholas celebration, with our favorite sour cream coffee cake taking the place of the Dundee cake of old. We are reading our favorite Christmas stories. When the kids are at school I am quite busy crafting presents in between bits of “real” work. So much to do yet.

This walleyed draft snake came out of the swirling flokati rug mist and took his place along the bottom edge of our front door, full of kitty litter and all business.

It was hard work. I had to lift heavy pine branches over my head to finish the lean-to, and while I held still to staple the sides of the tee pees, the mosquitoes nearly ate my face off. In fact, one bit me on the left side of my lower lip, and I have been doing dead-on Silvester Stallone impressions all afternoon. Adriaaaaaaan!

I wanted to tell them no, because I am old and tired and over-caffeinated. But this was the first weekend after the first week of a new school year, the end of the first week of our new days spent more apart than together. So I said yes instead. Yes, I will play with you. Yes, I like what you do. Yes, I love you.

I participated in my first creative exchange recently. Nancy of Round Rabbit ceramic jewelry fame sent me a really sweet, blue, handmade heart dish, and I sent her a clutch that I made for her.

Not done yet. We’re going to IKEA this weekend for the finishing touches. Boy, am I glad those curtains are finally up, sewing them almost killed me…

I spent our snowy winter solstice indoors, watching the snow fall out of the corner of my eye as I crafted last-minute gifts. All under the watchful eye of one feverish director, that is.

If you live with a guitar player, you must be prepared for one unfortunate truth: you, your children, and your children’s children will be tripping over guitar cases as long as your guitar player draws breath and you share a roof with him or her.

After the fourth time in a week that one of my poor, innocent children tripped and fell over a guitar case left in the middle of our living room floor, I threw up my hands. Then I cried, Uncle! Then I ate some Doritos. Then I Googled “hang guitar”, which brought me to this tutorial, the perusal of which ultimately resulted in me hatching an evil plan to rid my home of random guitar case leavings.

What You’ll Need:

• Laser level

• Stud finder

• Electric drill with drill bits and screwdriver bits

• Length of handrail appropriate to your wall

• Mounting hardware appropriate to your wall (I used drywall screws)

• Padded tool hangers, enough to accommodate your guitars (I bought these)

• A friend to help you, if your handrail is loooong

What To Do:

1. If you want the handrail to match your wall, prime and paint the handrail and let dry.

2. Use the stud finder to locate the studs in your wall.

3. Mark the location of your studs on the wall.

4. Hold the handrail against the wall where you plan to position it, and mark the location of the studs along the length of the handrail.

5. Drill pilot holes in the studs and handrail.

6. Use a screwdriver bit to drive screws through the handrail pilot holes and into the studs to mount the handrail

7. Drill pilot holes into the handrail where you want the hangers to go

8. Screw hangers into the pilot holes. You’re done!

All of this took place at 11 o’clock at night, after my kids were in bed, when my husband was out of town, with smooth jazz blasting from my iTunes radio to try to calm my drill-frazzled nerves.

Music stores charge at least $15 for a hanger that supports one guitar. I spent $30 in materials and ended up fitting six guitars on my wall.